Everything Starts Somewhere
by BuryTheHatchet
Summary: Everything starts somewhere, although many physicists disagree. Where did Tony and Ziva's evenings together originate - after Hiatus, before Shalom. Just my interpretation. I do hope you read and enjoy.
1. Everything Starts Somewhere

**So after a fairly bad bout of insomnia and a** ** _very_** **difficult decision between writing the philosophy essay that needs to be written or writing some fanfiction, I went with the fanfiction, and finally wrote up something on a subject that has been bothering me for a while now (honestly, a couple of years.) and so here is my take on the crucial problem that really needed addressing and never was.**

 **My big problem was that Tony's late night visits to Ziva's place were never really explained, and I, wanting to know everything, felt a great desire to know what was going on. And since nobody would tell me, I decided to write what I thought happened and how these little late night visits started.**

 **This did end up being a lot longer than I expected, I got a tad carried away, and I do not know whether certain parts will make any sense to anybody else, but they do to me and I like them how they are, so I will be stubborn and, although taking any criticisms on board, I will not change it. For anybody.**

 **Enjoy. Only if you want to of course. I would not want anybody to feel pressured into enjoying themselves. Oh, look at me, my notes are getting to be longer than the story itself. I feel many mental comparisons to Ducky cross my mind as I type.**

Everything Starts Somewhere, Although Many Physicists Disagree.

She looked at her watch and frowned as the tapping came from her front door, her sleepy mind struggling to figure the strange sound. When the second round of knocks came her mind had managed to disentangle them as someone wanting desperately to be let into her apartment. She looked at her watch. 2300. She never had people visiting her, let alone late at night. They knocked again and she sighed, placing her book down and walking to the door. She eyed her SIG Sauer on the table beside the door and checked who it was out of habit knowing fully well that anyone she knew who would want to kill her so much would have a much better plan of entry than beating her door down. She jumped back as the eye she would recognise anywhere looked back through the peephole from the other side. "Tony, what are you doing here?" She stared at him as she opened the door. He held a six-pack of beers in one hand and a bottle of merlot in the other, and already smelt of alcohol. "Come in." She opened the door wider, regretting her choice of scruffy old t-shirt, riddled with holes, and jogging bottoms. She had dressed for comfort. He walked in, staying silent, and looked around her apartment.

"Nice place you've got here." He nodded.

"How do you know where I live, Tony?" He didn't look so great. Pale. Tired. Verging on drunk.

"I, er, I looked in your file." He shrugged. "But I brought alcohol." He held up the bottles in his hands and grinned. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips before closing the door to her home.

"Which of course makes the invasion of my privacy perfectly alright." She laughed dryly. "You did not drive, did you?"

"I got a cab."

"What is wrong?"

"Why must something be wrong?" He smiled unconvincingly.

"Because you looked up my home address, caught a cab, you smell like a low class bar and you came armed to the nose with alcohol."

"Teeth."

"You are having problems with your teeth?" She tilted her head.

"No. Armed to the teeth."

"Oh." She shook her head and tried to commit the idiom to memory. "So what is wrong?"

He started to speak and stopped himself, uncertain of where to start. He walked over to Ziva's couch and sat down, uninvited. She smiled and shook her head, taking a seat in the armchair opposite him. "Pick your poison." He held the bottles up again.

"I shall take a beer." She pointed. He released two bottles and passed one to her, twisting the cap of the other and taking a swig.

"I don't think I'm doing a good job." He stated. She laughed and shook her head. "What? It's not funny."

"Tony. What makes you think you are not doing a good job?"

"It has been a week and you all hate me." He glared at her.

"If I hated you you would not be inside my apartment right now." She smiled softly. "I do not think you are doing so bad."

"Ziva, I can't be a team leader. Not after Gibbs."

"Yes. He is a hard act to follow." She studied his face carefully.

"You'd have to get that one right." He looked away from her and up to the candles along the mantelpiece. "Were you expecting someone? Oh, God, you're expecting someone, I'm sorry, I'll go." He began to stand up.

"Tony, stay." She looked up at him. "I was not expecting anybody."

"Oh." He relaxed back in the seat. "It's been a tough few weeks."

"I do not think it will get better any time soon." She sighed and curled her feet up to sit on them.

"Gee, remind me not to come to you for a pep talk."

"It is better to face the truth than hide from it."

"That how you handle with things?"

"Define things." She picked non-existent fibres off the arm of the chair, suddenly wishing for a change of subject.

"Things of the heart. Things of the soul."

"Sometimes." She said quietly, keeping her face hidden by her hair and glancing up at him through her eyelashes. She closed her eyes and bit her lip when she saw him staring back.

"Are _you_ ok?"

"Yes. It has just been a long day, that is all." She smiled weakly, her expression faltering slightly. "I was about to go to bed."

"Oh, I'll be heading off then." He stood up and pointed to the beer and wine. "You can keep those, a thank you for listening."

"Tony, I have a spare room if you want to stay. It is late, you have been drinking. I would say that you are possibly not in a sane state of mind, but I do not think you ever are." She smiled, trying to lighten the mood and failing.

"You sure?" He frowned as she blew the candles out. "I don't want to intrude or anything."

"Tony, you are you. It is your talent – intruding into other people's lives." She smirked. "I would not have offered if I was not sure."

"Thank you." He nodded. She led the way towards the two bedroom doors and veered to the one on the left.

"I apologise for the bedspread. It was the first one I owned when I moved out of my parents house and I guess I had a moment of weakness when I brought it over from Israel."

"Why are you apologising about a bedspread?"

"It is floral." She opened the door and pointed to the bed.

"How very un-Ziva." He laughed and she shook her head. "Thank you."

"You are welcome. The bathroom is on the right if you need it." She left him to stare at the empty room.

* * *

"Thanks for letting me stay." Tony smiled, handing her a mug of coffee.

"You are welcome." She shrugged.

"You want to go out for breakfast? My treat, a thank you."

"Tony, it is fine."

"No. I insist." He flashed his prize-winning grin.

She chuckled quietly and shook her head slowly. She had withstood interrogation; she had spent years being trained not to cave, under any circumstances, and yet his smile made her forget all of her training. Just a glimpse of that damn smile and she would do anything for him. Her father had often told her that she was a powerful weapon, not to fall into the wrong hands. Hands belonging to a man who could make her do anything with just a smile were _definitely_ the wrong hands. Or were they? She knew she could not trust her father, and she had very little idea behind his motives, which would surely make her father the wrong hands for her to be in. And Tony was working for the good of the world. She could see no bad in Anthony DiNozzo, no evil. He just didn't have the heart for it – or even had too much heart for him to do evil. She was brought out of her mental labyrinth by Tony tapping her lightly on the back of the head, no-where near as hard as he would have done were it McGee he were hitting, or if it were Gibbs hitting her. Breakfast. He had asked her about breakfast. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, one of her arms folding to her opposite hip and the other's elbow resting on that hand. Her finger was resting lightly on her bottom lip as she thought. _It was just breakfast. It could not hurt. He was her friend, was he not? There was no harm in breakfast between friends._ "Only so long as I can chose where."

"Deal." A lopsided, elfish grin broke out across his face.

* * *

"Go home, officer David. It's late, that paperwork can wait for tomorrow." Tony looked up into the dark office space, only their two desks illuminated by their individual lamps.

"And you? You will stay here and work on paperwork throughout the night before going and sleeping in Abby's lab?" She angled her face towards him.

"More than likely." He went back to reading the file that was in front of him.

"It is not healthy."

"It's the way Gibbs used to work."

"And you are not Gibbs." She had walked silently to stand before him. "You need to get some sleep."

"I'm fine." He cracked his knuckles and attempted to stifle a yawn.

"When was the last time you ate?" She asked, only receiving a shrug in reply and presuming that meant the lunch she had brought in for him yesterday. "I will cook you dinner. It will do you good to get out of here. The paperwork can wait for tomorrow."

"Yours, maybe. Mine was due on the directors desk lunchtime today." He leant back in his chair and yawned again, this time not attempting to hide it.

"Then I shall help you whilst I cook. Let me be a good friend, Tony." She had moved silently again to perch on the edge of his desk and placed her hand on his cheek, running her thumb along the dark shadows under his eyes. He swallowed. With anybody else he would have said it was a romantic gesture, one that even he wouldn't go so far as to make with one of his skirts, but with Ziva it was just another sign of friendship. To her it was just a platonic motion. How could it be anything more? And yet he wanted it to mean more to her. He wanted her soft hand resting on his cheek to mean a lot more than just that she was his friend and she was there for him.

"Well, who can argue with that?" He looked up at her, smiling at the warmth of her hand as it gently caressed his skin. She walked to her desk to pack her things away for the night and he immediately felt colder at the loss of contact. Regretting his one weakness – Ziva David – he folded the file into his bag and stood up, flicking Gibbs' – his – desk lamp off before turning to her and smiling. The Israeli wrapped her arm around the one he had extended for precisely such a purpose and they walked over to the elevator. She rested her head on his shoulder as they rode down in a comfortable silence, neither wanting to ruin the little moment they shared, each wanting it to mean more and knowing that the other did not want such a thing. To an external eye, they would look like a young couple, past the stage of a romance so new that they did not have the strength to get their hands off one-another, but new enough for their relationship not to be tainted by hours of battles and arguments won and lost. The perfect point of love. Alas, of course, they were just friends, and at this point in time they could not imagine having a closer friendship _without_ it becoming anything more than just that.

* * *

Ziva smiled slightly as she pulled the blanket over the sleeping form on her sofa, his extremities overflowing the couches boundaries. He looked the most relaxed she had seen him in a long time, since Gibbs left in fact. He had collapsed on her sofa as soon as they had finished eating and fallen swiftly asleep. Kneeling by his head, she lightly brushed her lips across his forehead. "Lilah tov." She whispered quietly, slipping into Hebrew as she wished him goodnight. She stood up and folded away the files they had worked on through their dinner, placing them in a neat pile on the coffee table. She flicked the lamp off and smiled once more at the sleeping man on her sofa lit only by the yellow-orange glow of the streetlamp outside her living room window, his soft snoring reminding her of their undercover operation. Turning her back to him, she readied herself for bed and for the second time in a fortnight drifted off to sleep with thoughts of Tony being only a wall away.

* * *

Tony woke from the second night of decent sleep he had had in a fortnight, unsurprised by his surroundings as he surveyed Ziva's living room. The light of dawn emanating from the window gave the room an almost ethereal golden glow as he sat up and smiled. It had to be that it was only in Ziva's apartment that he could actually get some sleep. And it was only under her supervision that he actually ate something. How many times had she brought food in for his lunch over the past week? At least three out of four times so far. Which meant that in the past two weeks since Gibbs had quit, he had brought her one breakfast, spent two nights at her place and she had made him three lunches. To him that would usually constitute as a serious long-term relationship – if it weren't Ziva, obviously. But it was Ziva, and all she could be was his friend.

He had noticed her looking at him funny recently. He'd thought it was just worry for him, but then he'd realised that she had been looking at him in that way since before Gibbs left. He couldn't remember when it had started though. Maybe she had always looked at him in that way and he had only just seen it. He jumped as a pair of delicate hands came to rest on his shoulders and a light kiss was pressed to the top of his head, another platonic action in the eyes of Miss David. "You look happy this morning, peaceful." He felt Ziva's cheek beside his as she crouched behind the sofa, the soft smell of her coconut shampoo gracing his senses. They sat staring out of the window at the rising sun, their skin mere millimetres from one another.

"Breakfast's on me this morning, David." He grinned and turned his face so he was looking at her as she mirrored the movement, their eyes locking, each daring themselves, or one-another – neither was quite certain which – to make a move.

"Deal." She whispered quietly, breaking the stare and standing up, looking for any distraction to take her mind off of her temporary boss's eyes.

* * *

Tony wasn't even certain how it had happened the third time, let alone the forth or fifth, but on the sixth Thursday without Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat on the throne in the NCIS squad room, she did not even bother to offer dinner and her spare bedroom, it had just become a presumption that they would leave at the same time, once everyone else had disappeared into the night, arm in arm. It had become routine for Ziva to drive them back to her place, for her to cook Italian. For them to sit and share paperwork, a bottle of red wine and all but their most personal of personal feelings. They would part at the adjacent bedroom doors, a wish of goodnight in English from Tony and Hebrew from Ziva, slowly morphing into Hebrew from both of them. Every Friday morning Tony would drive her red mini to the little café where he would buy her breakfast and coffee every morning before she would drive them both to work, fast enough so that no-one noticed the fact that Anthony DiNozzo was arriving with Ziva every Friday morning. It had become such a regular occurrence, almost a ritual, that articles of his clothing had begun to accumulate in her spare bedroom, the room that was not too dissimilar from a second home to him. There were nights when one of them would wake from, in Ziva's case a nightmare, in Tony's an 'unpleasant dream' – refusing to admit to the nightmares – and the other would wake, not for any other reason than knowing their friend was in distress, and Ziva would pad through into what had been decisively labelled as 'Tony's room' and curl up in his arms, no words needing to be said and only the presence of one-another a comfort great enough to settle them each back into their slumbers, entwined in one-another's arms for warmth and security and nothing more.

This was their pattern, their habit, their modus operandi. This was their way of functioning, keeping going through the absence of the only man who could really sit at the head of their NCIS team.

It was their coping method.

 **Just in case you were unsure, the title comes from 'The Hogfather' by Terry Pratchett, or at least it comes from the film, sadly my copy of the book is three books deep on the top shelf of one of the larger bookshelves in the house and I had trouble reaching it to check at half three in the morning. Sorry. But if anyone does know if it is in the book as well, I would be very grateful for the heads up.**

 **For my reference: 8th NCIS fic.**


	2. The Oldest Stories

**Slightly different to how I usually write. Not sure if I truly conveyed what I wanted to. It does get kind of confusing at points, but it was meant to be, if that makes sense. Basically Ziva thinking about how her and Tony's midnight-meetings as I have come to mentally refer to them as ended.**

The Very Oldest Stories Of The Beginning Are, Sooner Or Later, About Blood

She was not jealous.

She did not get jealous.

She was Ziva David: jealousy was a weakness.

It did not matter that he had he had stopped spending Thursday nights with her.

It did not matter that he had disregarded what had become, to her, the routine that was keeping her going.

It did not matter that he had begun to take time out of work to see _Her_.

It did not even matter that he had not let any them meet _Her_.

All that mattered was that she felt like she had lost her best friend, and was being tortured by having to see him every day, phoning _Her_ and running off to meet _Her_.

It might have helped, even just a little bit, if he was not just let off the hook, given a free pass from the director every time he left.

But he was, and that infuriated her because were it anybody else to behave in such a manner they would be unemployed in seconds.

And all this reminded her of was that it was not her that Tony was taking time out of his work, the most important thing to him, to see.

It was not her that he was spending his Thursday evenings with.

It was not her.

So maybe she was jealous.

But did she not have a right to be?

She would do anything for him, and he had broken her heart more times than he could every realise, because every time he picked up a phone call from _Her_ , or left her every Thursday night hoping he might just change his mind and turn up on her doorstep, a bottle of red wine in his hand and a grin on his face, wanting to stay in her spare room, her heart shattered just that little bit more.

It took all her strength to not show how she felt when he left early to be with _Her_ , when she came into work after a bad night's sleep, or when she brought lunch for them to share, only for him to go out to lunch with _Her_.

Maybe her father had been right.

Maybe emotions were a human's biggest weakness.

They caused pain and suffering.

They were what ruined lives, feelings.

And yet she could not do without them again.

She could not go back to being the cold-hearted killer she had been before.

Even though the only feeling she felt anymore was pain, she decided it was better than not feeling anything at all.

And she could thank Tony for that.

She could thank him for the pain.

"Ziva, my dear child, what are you doing here so late?" Ducky asked, walking over to the crying woman. She had not even realised everyone had left. She had not realised how late it had gotten. She had not realised the tears running down her cheeks. He pulled the chair over from McGee's desk and sat next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "It's Thursday. You always used to be so cheerful on a Thursday." She looked up at him from where her head was resting on her folded arms.

"How about a drink, Ducky? You and me, we can drown our sorrows." She tried to smile through her tears and Ducky sighed and shook his head.

"You and I both know that hiding our miseries in the bottom of a bottle gets us nowhere but drunk."

"Maybe I want to be drunk." She held her finger up and the pathologist chuckled.

"No. You don't want to be drunk. You want to tell me what's wrong and then you want to go home and sleep."

"I do not want to talk about it." She shook her head, defiant, her eyes lingering on Tony's desk. Ducky, being Ducky, noticed and smiled pitifully.

"This would be Tony's new lady-friend who is causing you so much distress?"

"You can read minds, Ducky."

"No, Ziva dear. I've just seen many upset women throughout my short life. This one's different from the others."

"He has changed so much since he met her. He does not talk about his life anymore, he barely talks to me at all, we have not stayed together in over the last month…" She froze, realising what she had said. "That does not sound how I wanted it to. I mean…he would take my spare bedroom. We never slept together. I mean we did actually sleep in the same bed once or twice, but we never had sex." She explained, flustered.

"I understand." He smiled and nodded, remembering a story but holding back, thinking it would not help the situation.

"I felt safe with him there, Ducky."

"I'm surprised he was not the one feeling safer." He grinned.

"He could protect me from the nightmares."

"I know." His smile faded away slowly. "How strong are your feelings for our new team leader, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Who said I had feelings for him?"

"The painful little glint you get in your eyes when you think about him. They won't dissipate, you know. They'll always be there if they're powerful enough."

"I know, Ducky. I know." Yawning, she stretched and cracked her knuckles and neck.

"You look exhausted."

"That is what comes from not sleeping." She laughed coldly.

"Come on, Officer David, let me escort you out of here."

 **If you could not guess, the** ** _Her_** **I referenced many times was of course Jeanne, and I do of course dislike her greatly (Sorry if you like her). She stole Tony. Okay, so that might be a bit over dramatic, but it is true.**


	3. Maybe

**You know, for a one-shot, this is certainly starting to have a lot of chapters. I was enjoying meandering through Ziva's mind so much that I wrote another one like the last. This one is based right after 'Driven', when she gets home.**

 **I wrote this whilst having a season four marathon, which always surprises me when people ask what my favourite season is and I reply with 'four'. I do not like Jeanne, I do not like the way Tony practically ignores Ziva, I do not like the way Ducky and Gibbs argue at the beginning and I do not particularly like the _'Frog'_ case – although I do not know why on that point. So I really do not know why I always automatically respond with season four as my favourite. I honestly do not know.**

Maybe

Maybe it was not a woman he was seeing.

Maybe he was _actually_ ill.

Dying.

Then why did he not tell her?

Because he did not want to hurt her.

Because he was her best friend and he was trying to protect her.

But she did not need to be protected.

And he knew that.

She ran it over in her mind again.

No woman. Dying. Protecting her.

But why did he not want her to help him?

Why did he not want her to know?

She did not want him to die without telling him about her feelings for him.

She did not want him to die without asking him about his feelings for her.

She did not want him to die.

She did not want him to die.

She stared at the screen of the laptop on her coffee table, the article on Yersinia pestis.

Maybe it was not Y. pestis.

Maybe it was something less harmful.

Maybe he was not dying.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

It was all maybes these days.

Nothing was certain.

Maybe nothing would be again.

There was that word again.

Maybe.

Maybe Gibbs would leave again.

Maybe he would not.

Maybe Gibbs would tell them how he was planning on getting the boat out of his basement.

Maybe he would not.

Maybe Tony did have a disease.

Maybe he did not.

Maybe Tony was dying.

Maybe he was not.

Maybe Tony had feelings for her.

Maybe he did not.

Maybe he was seeing another woman.

Maybe he was not.

Maybe Abby would wear a normal outfit next week.

Maybe she would not.

Maybe McGee would throw his computer down the stairs.

Maybe he would not.

Maybe pigs would learn to fly tomorrow.

Maybe they would not.

She threw the empty wine glass across the room.

It shattered into a thousand pieces.

She stared at the shards, the light from the candles on the mantelpiece flickering off them at different angles to create a strangely mesmerising sight.

It reminded her of her shattering heart.

The sound of it breaking resonating within her head.

The sound of the knocking resonating within her head.

Wait.

Knocking.

Her head turned to the door.

She walked over.

Pulled the door open.

Stared at her neighbour.

Mrs Something-or-other.

Mrs Thingamabob.

Her name did not matter.

"…glass breaking. Was worried something was wrong."

"I am fine."

"Maybe we could…"

The door slammed.

She walked over to start picking the glass up.

Stopped.

It was beautiful.

It was beautiful the way the light danced.

She smiled.

Not a happy smile.

She had no happy left.

But it was a smile.

And it felt…alright.

Maybe even nice.

Maybe.

She blew the candles out.

Left the room in darkness.

Left the mess on the floor.

Left the mess for tomorrow.

And for now she slept.

Fully clothed.

But not feeling…bad.

Feeling better.

Maybe.


	4. Plans

**I really though that this would just be a one-shot. Honestly, I did.**

 **This fits in towards the end of season four. It is slightly different to the others and more Tony's point of view than Ziva's, because I thought we should get his side of the story and I was getting a bit stressed with all of the angry Ziva thought patterns. I was actually beginning to think in the same way as I have been writing her.**

Plans

He sighed as her body slumped over her desk, exhaustion hitting her like a tidal wave. It had been a tough case for all of them, but she had suffered most. Of course she had – she had trusted the man, believed him. Maybe even started to fall for him. Every time he had seen her with a man she was left heartbroken. Either they would kill, or they would be killed. He pitied her. He may have had a tough ride with love, but at least he had found it, and had it reciprocated. She had no such luck. He looked across to his two other agents. McGee was packing his things away, preparing to head for Abby's lab. DiNozzo was preparing for a date. Or a night in with the mystery woman. His gaze flicked back to Ziva. She had saved him. She had killed her own brother. To save him. And even after almost two years, he was still shocked by that, and so he should be. And that act of saving him left a warm spot in his heart for her. He hated to see her hurt. "DiNozzo, drive Ziva back to her apartment. Make sure she eats something and goes to bed."

"Boss, I've got plans." Tony protested, looking up from his desk to meet Gibbs eyes.

"DiNozzo, tell me one thing, one single thing, more important than making sure your partner is alright. No, more so, tell me one thing more important than making sure that your friend is alright." Gibbs glared.

"I can't get out of these plans, boss…"

"Rule one, DiNozzo."

"Don't keep suspects together? What's that got to do with anything?"

"The other rule one. Never screw over your partner. She's had a bad week." He pointed to the woman, glaring at his senior field agent.

"Right. I can cancel my plans." He nodded and looked at Ziva. He couldn't tell whether she was awake or not. She had her head buried in her arms as they were folded on her desk. Gibbs had a point, there was a very high probability that she had not eaten or slept in a number of days. He pulled his phone out and sent a quick text to Jeanne, blagging an excuse about having to mark papers.

"She keeps her keys to her apartment in…"

"The front pocket of her backpack. I know." He sighed, gently trying to stir Ziva from what appeared to be a deep slumber. Giving up, he slung both his and her bags across his shoulders and scooped her up, one arm hooked under her knees and one arm around her torso. She let out a slight moan before nestling her head onto his shoulder, her warm breath brushing against his skin. He carried her into the elevator and to his car, where he sat her in the passenger seat and buckled the seatbelt in. Sliding into the driver's seat, he drove in silence, his eyes often leaving the road to check she was all right. He pulled up outside their usual Chinese takeaway, hurrying in and ordering their usual assortment of fast food delicacies, what they usually ordered for the whole team, not just the two of them.

"Tony? What are you doing here?" A familiar voice asked from behind him as he placed the food in the boot of his car. He cringed before replacing his expression with a well-rehearsed mask and turning around.

"Jeanne." He smiled. "I needed food. Marking takes up a lot of energy."

"Who is she?" Jeanne nodded to Ziva's sleeping form in the passenger seat of his car, more than just a hint of jealously present in her tone. He paused, deliberating between lies.

"She's an old friend, she turned up on the doorstep of my office this morning after a messy break-up." It wasn't wholly untrue. She was a friend, and she had just had a very messy break-up. Messy in many, many senses of the word.

"Why didn't you just tell me that, not lie to me?"

"I really don't know, it seemed simpler to explain." He shook his head. "I'm just taking her back to her apartment and making sure she eats something and goes to bed. I'm just worried about her, that's all."

"Do you need me to help?" It was almost as if she was saying that whoever this woman was, she couldn't be as important as her. And she was saying that, with the tone of voice she used.

"No, I can handle her on my own. She's a little…explosive." He laughed slightly at his understatement.

"You'll come over when you're done?"

"I really don't know when that will be. It could take a while to get her to eat anything, and then I have to ensure she actually get's to sleep, and once that's done hide anything she could use as a weapon – and she is very creative." He chuckled to himself. Jeanne raised her eyebrows. "I might sleep in her spare room if it get's too late."

"I honestly don't mind you coming over. Even if it's late." Jeanne took his hands in hers and walked closer, pressing her body to him.

"She's had a really rough couple of days and she gets real bad nightmares…" He shook his head, casting his eyes back to Ziva sleeping in his passenger seat.

"And you don't want to leave her? You're a good friend, Tony."

"Yeah, we're good friends." He said quietly, staring into space as he remembered evenings at her apartment, laughing and sharing paperwork.

"Earth to Tony?" Jeanne waved her hand in front of his face and looked worried. "You were off in a daze. What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's just…She's not the only one who's had a tough day."

"You know where to find me if you need to talk." She smiled and kissed him, running her hands through his hair.

* * *

He struggled up the stairs to Ziva's apartment with her fast asleep in his arms, the food in one hand and his other clutching the spare key to her apartment that she had had cut for him and he still kept on his keychain next to the key to Jeanne's apartment. He unlocked the door and awkwardly closed it behind him before gently laying her on her sofa. It had been over four months since he had been there, and she hadn't changed the place a bit. It was identical to the way it had looked the last Friday they had left for breakfast together. He laid out the food on the coffee table before contemplating how best to wake her. Surprisingly, she stirred before he had even decided upon a plan of action, suddenly gasping when she felt someone else's presence in the room. "Hey, sleepyhead."

"Tony? What are you doing here?" She rubbed her eyes. She must be dreaming. He was back at her apartment again, sat opposite her – cross-legged and grinning – like old times.

"Gibbs told me to take you home, make sure you had something to eat and got some sleep." He shrugged and her heart sank. So it was an order. He was not there out of kindness, or friendship, just because Gibbs had ordered him to be there.

"Well, I am not hungry." She shrugged and swung her legs off of the sofa.

"Okay." He shrugged and started eating. "Bu' I 'm" His words were garbled as he stuffed food into his mouth.

"Why do you not take your food home with you then? And stop talking with your mouth full."

"I don't want Gibbs to hit me for not making sure you're ok." He shrugged again.

"I am fine. Now will you leave?"

"Nope, I've started my dinner now." She sighed and slid onto the floor opposite him. Grabbing the carton closest, she began to eat, realising that she was actually quite hungry.

"Will your new girlfriend not be missing you?" She spat the words out.

"Not tonight. I told her that I needed to spend the night with an upset friend." He tried to ignore the venom in her voice.

"I am not upset."

"But you are my friend." He held her gaze, neither one wanting to break it. He looked down first, not wanting to see the pain in her eyes anymore.

"Yes, and you are mine." She smiled, the emotion not reaching her eyes as she built her protective walls. They ate in an awkward silence, neither one raising their eyes from their food. "I am going for a shower." Said Ziva as she stood up, finished with the meal. She had expected for him to leave, but, after her long shower with the water turned up as high as possible, the hot water scalding her skin, he was still in her apartment, apparently tidying up from dinner. "I thought you would have gone home by now." She feigned insouciance, trying to decide whether she actually wanted him to stay or not. One the one hand, she had missed having him there and she liked the way he seemed to actually care about her again, but as he had pointed out – he was there under orders. He did not want to be there, he wanted to be with _Her_. She felt like she was just getting in the way, he had other things, better things to be doing than babysitting her.

"I don't want you to be alone tonight. I'm gonna stay in your spare room." He invited himself over.

"That is not necessary. I will be fine."

"I don't care. I want to make sure you have someone to go to if you have any bad dreams tonight."

"I learnt to cope with the bad dreams." She bluffed, her tone a little harsher than she meant. Her words cut him deeper than any knife could, and he had to pause to almost literally catch his breath after that blow.

"Good. Then it won't be a problem for me to stay." He shrugged it off, turning away so she couldn't see his face. He had let her down, he would admit it. But she would understand when it was all over, wouldn't she? She had surely done worse for missions in Mossad? But he knew that however much he tried to justify it – it was an order for a case, he had to, Jenny had asked him, it was for the greater good – it was never enough compared to how much he had let her down. She was his best friend and he had ignored her, made her worry about him for no reason.

"I am going to bed." She stated, turning and leaving before he could even register her words.

* * *

She felt strong arms wrap around her waist from behind her as she stared into the glass of water in her hands. She smiled slightly as he pressed a light kiss to her shoulder, for a moment forgetting everything that had happened. But the memories came flooding back and she stiffened, trying not to breathe his familiar scent as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "I though you said you had learnt to cope with the dreams." He whispered softly.

"I had."

"Why are you crying then?"

"Because that is what I do when my coping method is not here."

"Who is your coping method?" He removed his chin but not his arms.

"You." Barely audible, no more than a whisper.

"Then why are you crying now?" His voice caught in his throat as he wiped away the tears that dribbled down her pink cheeks.

"Because you are not here."

"I'm stood right behind you, Ziva." He frowned.

"Not you. Not my Tony." She shook her head, the tears flowing faster now.

"I'll always be your Tony, Ziva. Always." He kissed the top of her head and hugged her slightly tighter. "You want to talk about the nightmare?"

"No." She shook her head slowly, placing the glass of water down and leaning her head against his chest.

"Come on, I'll be your Tony." He smiled. "I'll ward away the nightmares." He guided her to 'his' room and let her curl up in his arms, smiling as she automatically settled down and her eyelids fluttered closed.

"I love you, Tony." She murmured as her breathing slowed.

"I love you too, Ziva." He whispered. He hadn't even noticed he was going to say it until it slipped out. He rubbed her back slightly, making sure she was asleep and hadn't heard him. How was it that he couldn't say those three simple little words to Jeanne, but it was so easy to say to Ziva. It just rolled off his tongue with her. He didn't know why he couldn't say it to her. He tried, but he couldn't. He knew it wasn't real, he knew that it was for a case, but it still felt like he should be able to say it to her. Because when he forgot that he was just working a case, just following orders and it wasn't real, he felt like he really could love her if he tried. But maybe that was the point. He had to try. With Ziva, there was no trying.

It was automatic.


	5. Me and You

**This is either the last one of this story or the penultimate one. So far I have kept it reasonably close to the actual story, but I just wanted it to end differently to how it actually did in the show, because I really was not happy with how it all ended in the show. Oh, and this one had some of both of their points of view in it.**

 **Enjoy.**

Me and You

It almost hurt less to see him when he was running off to be with _Her_.

 _Jeanne._

Almost.

At least then he had been happy.

Now he was just miserable.

Morose.

Melancholy.

Mournful.

Okay, so maybe not _just_ miserable, but he was definitely not showing any of the symptoms of being his usual, happy self.

She hated to see him in pain.

He was her best friend and even after all the times he had been there for her, she could still not help him.

It amazed her how she had actually thought about going to find Jeanne just to get her to talk to him.

She wanted him to be happy.

She wanted to see him grin and laugh and flirt and joke.

Furthermore, she wanted to be the one to be able to make him grin and laugh and flirt and joke.

But if she could not manage it, then she would have to settle for someone else doing it.

She would have to learn to cope without him one day anyway.

She knew that.

Seeing him after Jeanne made her realise that he was looking for something that flings just could not give him.

She was looking for the same thing of course, but she had already found it.

It was just unattainable.

He was just unattainable.

No matter, she could just feed off of his happiness like a parasite when he found it, not taking so much to bleed him dry, but just enough to keep her going.

All she would need would be for him to smile at her once a day.

Just one smile and she would be satisfied.

Until the next day.

He was like a drug.

Addictive.

Dangerous.

Illegal.

Off-limits.

And maybe that was what spurred her on, made her continue to try and get him to notice her.

She tried every day to poke the embers, tempt a spark to fly.

And every day he ignored her, running off to Jeanne until things went south.

Why did people say 'go south' or 'down hill' when something had gone wrong?

Why was the alternative of going 'down hill' to go 'up hill'?

It was a perfect summary of the human life.

You have two choices.

It getting worse, or a difficult struggle to an unknown conclusion.

Down hill or up.

Which do you chose?

And now he was too depressed to care about anyone.

Even her.

And she could not make it better.

Not that she had ever been any good at making things better in the first place.

That had been his specialty.

Warding off the bad dreams.

Being her protector during the night as she slept.

The one time she could not protect herself, he had been right at home.

But in the way that he could not protect himself she was useless.

She was being selfish.

He was the one in pain and yet it was her complaining about how tough it was on her.

Guilt flowed through her body immediately as she stood up from her desk and walked to the ladies room.

The cold water from the tap felt good on her face.

It let her cry without having to see her tears.

She could cry without looking weak.

Because whether she was weak or not, all that really mattered was if she looked it.

It was all just a façade.

Her strong, emotionless exoskeleton.

It protected her softness.

It kept the human inside safe.

But at the same time it isolated her.

She grew callous.

The armour rubbed, chaffed, solidifying the soft parts.

She looked at her reflection.

Pathetic.

She closed her eyes and allowed his warm arms to wrap around her waist from behind as he pressed tender kisses down her neck and across the top of her back onto her shoulders.

She relished in the mental creation that had managed to get every detail right, even the way his muscles tensed and the slight roughness of his lips on the bare skin of her neckline.

It was unfair for her mind to trick her like that.

She fell to the floor, leaning against the counters with the inset basins.

Covering her ears, she blocked out the mental creation of Tony, tears now streaming heavily down her face.

* * *

He watched her leave. Externally she looked calm and collected, but he had seen the torment in her eyes as she stared at him, worried. They had been best friends. As thick as thieves. He had told her all but his deepest, darkest secret. The one that haunted every dream. Tormented every of his waking moments. The secret that he had spent so many evenings over the past year burying along with the feeling that it coupled with. They way he felt about her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her laugh. A proper laugh, not the false one she had started to stop people from asking if she was okay. Nobody else had seemed to notice that it wasn't her real laugh, but he had. It was her real laugh that he had fallen in love with. He had really hurt her. Every night with Jeanne he had spent wondering if Ziva would be having a nightmare. Worrying that he wouldn't be there when she woke, screaming, from the terrors that plagued her sleep. His love for her was unrequited though. Yes, she had been worried about him. Yes, all he had put her through with the secrecy had hurt her, but only because she was his best friend, and he was hers. One day he would have to stand in a suit, watching her walk down the aisle in a white dress, adorned in flowers and lace, as she flicked a grin to him before she wed her true love. He didn't know who it would be who filled the place he wanted so much but one thing was certain: it would never be him. One day, she would wake, screaming, from the terrors that plagued her sleep, and it wouldn't be his arms that wrapped around her, it would be another mans. Someone she loved and someone who loved her. He would have to watch her as she had another mans children, watch those children that should have been his grow up in front of his very own eyes. He would have to watch her grow old with another man, retire and leave him. He'd end up like Gibbs or Ducky. Working with a stream of new, younger models continually filing in through the door possessing talents that were beyond him and being alone in his lonely, aging world.

And that is all it took to decide. Just the thought that he could not live for one more second with the possibility of her loving another man to make him stand from his desk and follow the path she had taken but minutes beforehand. He walked into the ladies room, stopping dead as her reflection closed her eyes. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist. She didn't flinch away. He pressed kisses to the top of her head, the side of her neck, along her shoulder, the top of her back. He watched as her reflection smiled slightly, eyes still closed, the rest of her body completely motionless. Until the crying started. Her body slipped from his grasp as she slid onto the floor, turning as she crumpled so her back was against the counter. He frowned as she pulled her hands over her ears.

"Ziva, please." He whispered and sat down next to her. "Don't cry. I hate it when you cry."

"But you're not real." She moaned through her gasping, breathing becoming a problem as she choked on her tears, suffocating as the sudden flood of emotions drowned her.

"What do you mean? I am real."

"No. The real Tony is sat at his desk thinking about _Her_. I just made you up, so stop being nice to me."

"Ziva. I am real. I am the Tony who you think is sitting at my desk."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm thinking about my one true love."

"I do not want to hear about it." She groaned, her stomach turning.

"I'm thinking about you, Ziva. You're the love of my life."

"You know how I know I have made this up?" Ziva laughed sadly, looking at him.

"Enlighten me."

"Only I could think you would ever say that to me. You have just broken up with the love of your life."

"Jeanne was a mission. I did it because I was ordered to. I thought I could develop feelings for her, given time and a lot of nurturing, but they would never have been easy. Natural."

"And that is what your feelings are with me, I guess. Easy. Natural." She scoffed.

"Yes, Ziva." He took her hand, uncurling her fingers and locking his between them. "See?" He held up their entwined hands. "Perfect fit. Perfect match."

"Another reason I know I have made this up."

"Not made up." He shrugged. "I'll take you for a date whenever you want to prove it. Your choice of venue, your terms. Just name a date and time."

"Tonight. 2300 hours. The all night pizza place around the corner from here."

"Not the most romantic of places." Tony laughed.

"If you are something I have imagined up, you will not even take me to dinner and so I will not be disappointed."

"Well, we shall go to the all night pizza place around the corner at 2300 tonight then." He grinned and tucked a strand of hair that had been plastered to her face by the water she had splashed her flushed skin with behind her ear. "You and me, then."


	6. First Dates

**I did say that there might be one more chapter, and I have been working on this ever since I said it. I have just had an idea for one final final chapter, but I do not know if I will write it and if I do I do not know how long it will be or when I will upload it. You never know – in forty years time you might get a little notification to say "Hi there, I'm Eddie, your on board computer system. Everything Starts Somewhere has just had it's final final chapter uploaded."**

 **Unlikely, but you never know…**

First Dates

"You look beautiful." Tony smiled as he leant against the doorframe, his eyes flicking up and down her body in appraisal. He wanted to walk over to her and tug at the green sash holding the satin dress up, to see if the material felt the same as it had those two long years ago. She'd left her hair natural like she had that night in the hotel as well and the fire was almost back in her eyes. Almost. She was still convinced he was just a creation of her mind.

"You do not look half bad yourself, Tony." She looked at the tux and flicked the light off as she breezed past him out of her front door. He held his arm out for her and, after a moment's consideration, she took it. He guided her to his new car, the mustang that resembled his old one in every way but the colour – this one was a pale eggshell blue. They sat in silence as he drove to the pizza place she had chosen for their first date and he pulled up outside. "Are you still sure that you want to go here? I have a reservation at a hotel restaurant if you want and we are definitely dressed for the occasion."

"Here is fine."

"As you wish." He smiled, seeing if she could get the movie reference. She didn't, but that didn't matter, he had The Princess Bride on DVD at home. Maybe he'd watch it with her someday. He leapt out and walked to the passenger door, opening it and giving her his hand. They attracted many pairs of eyes as they walked into the all night pizza parlour, out of place in their fine clothes. The place was full of students out for a late night snack and people just finishing a late shift at the office. Busy for 2300 hours. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into his side. "What do you want?"

"My usual." A test. It had been months since they had spent the evening together with pizza.

"One peperoni and sausage, one olive and anchovy."

"You remembered?" She looked honestly shocked.

"Of course."

"Anything else, sir?" The cashier asked and Tony shook his head. "Very well then." Tony handed money over, not needing to be told the prices.

"Can we have them to-go please?" He smiled as Ziva frowned at him.

"We are supposed to be eating here."

"And I changed my mind."

"Then where are we going?"

"Patience." He ran a finger down her cheek. He nodded a thank you as he collected the two boxes and guided her out of the shop with a hand on the small of her back. She stayed silent, sulking for the whole car journey to the navy yard.

"Tony, if you call sitting at your desk eating pizza a date then we have had many dates before."

"You really have no patience, do you?" He sighed as he parked his mustang in its usual slot and turned to look at her. They got out again, Ziva not waiting this time for his hand as she made her way to the front of the NCIS building. "Hey, where do you think you're going?" He wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her around the back of the building, towards the river. She narrowed her eyes at him as he led her along the pier and up the gangplank lit with fairy lights.

"Are we supposed to be here?"

"Scared?"

"Never."

"Then stop asking so many questions." They followed the trail of fairy lights to the deck and a small patio table. "You, Ziva David, are the first person ever to have a romantic dinner of pizza and a very expensive champagne my father gave me when I turned 21 on the deck of the DS Barry." He nodded to the shadows and Palmer walked out, looking rather uncomfortable dressed as a waiter. The ME's assistant pulled out Ziva's chair so she could sit and did the same for Tony before pouring two flutes of champagne and lighting the candle in the middle of the table next to the single black rose. Tony handed Ziva her olive and anchovy pizza and started eating his slowly, keeping his eyes fixed to her uncertain face. "Satisfied that you haven't just made this up?"

"I do not think I would be able to make something like this up." She shrugged.

"Then why do you look so uncomfortable?"

"Because I do not understand why you are doing this."

"Hm." He furrowed his brow. "You'll figure it out with time." He continued to eat, leaving her staring at him.

"So you are not going to tell me?"

"Nope."

"How did you get this all put together so quickly?"

"I had help." He pointed to the black rose. "I did threaten Abby that if she did not buy a red rose I'd kill her, but apparently my empty threats were just that. And of course Gibbs giving you the dress from the undercover wardrobe to wear." He grinned. "Guess who the fairy lights belong to."

"The Director?"

"No, guess again."

"Cynthia? Lee?"

"McPrettyInPink. Apparently he brought them when he was decorating his sister's sweet sixteen." Tony laughed at her shock. They finished their meal in amiable quietude and Palmer hurried over with a packet of chocolate biscuits and a handful of chocolate bars from the vending machine.

"This is all I could find, Tony." He held them out and gasped for breath after his run.

"They'll do, Jimmy. Hey, thanks for this." He held the younger man's forearm as he started to walk away.

"No, don't mention it." But he beamed at the appreciation as he nodded and walked back into the shadows.

"So, apparently there is not a great stock of dessert foods on the navy yard." He placed the assortment of food on the table. "Take your pick."

* * *

"Thank you, Tony." She kissed his cheek gently as they stood by his car.

"It's not over yet." He grinned.

"Tony, it is 0100 hours. We have work tomorrow."

"Stop making excuses." He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and smiled. "Come on, or we'll be late."

"I am tired, Tony."

"You can sleep on the way there." He grinned and she sighed, only wondering how much caffeine he must have had to keep him this awake.

She slept in the car, and stayed sleeping as he lifted her out and carried her up the stairs. She stayed asleep in the leather chair he placed her in until tendrils of sunlight crept through the windows. She sat up and blinked, looking around the cabin and seeing him dosing in a chair opposite. "Ow, that is no way to treat someone after such a romantic night." He rubbed the side of his head where the pillow had hit.

"Where are we?" She demanded. "This is kidnapping."

"Not if you complied." He shrugged and looked out the window. "Looks like Mexico."

"What are we doing in Mexico, Tony?" She sighed and leaned her head back.

"Going to the beach."

"We have to be at work in three hours." She looked at her watch.

"No we don't. We have two weeks off."

"How did you manage to get two weeks off?"

"Easy. I told Jenny that after such a long undercover mission and so much overtime she owed me at least four weeks off."

"And she just accepted that?"

"Well, I also said that since it had not exactly ended well, I was needing a break."

"So why am I not at work?"

"Gibbs told her he didn't think it was wise leaving me alone for too long, told her I might not come back. So you are my guardian." He grinned.

"What are we really doing here, Tony?"

"We're going to spend two weeks on Mike Franks beach. He, his daughter-in-law and his granddaughter are spending some time with Gibbs. We have the run of the house."

"But why?"

"Why do you think?"

"I do not know." Her usually strong voice faltered as she peered out of the window.

"You'll get it soon enough." He shrugged. "Water?"

"Tony, what are you doing?"

"Offering a bottle of water. Why, it look like I'm doing something else?"

"Tony."

"Ziva."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?" He asked innocently, smiling.

"Ugh!" She reached for her thigh holster and realised it wasn't wrapped around the top of her leg anymore. "What have you done with my gun!?"

"It's in the safe. I didn't want you shooting me."

"You took my holster off!"

"I didn't think it safe for you to be sleeping in it." He shrugged and leaned back on his folded arms. She reached for the pistol and knife concealed at her ankle. "They're in the safe as well. It does make me wonder, Zee-vah. Why do you need so many weapons for a date? I'm not that dangerous."

"He says as we fly over Mexico against my will."

"I thought this is what you wanted. I thought you wanted me to take you on a date."

"I would have preferred you not kidnapping me." She snapped. "And you leaving my weapons with me."

"I'm not kidnapping you."

"Then why are you taking me to Mexico?"

"Because Gibbs said I wasn't allowed to take you to the 'crystal white sands of your homeland'." He quoted from McGee's book.

"Take me home, Tony." She looked at him and he sighed.

"This was supposed to be our first date, Ziva. Why can you never just be happy with a surprise?"

"Because I was taught to shoot things that jump out at me."

"Which is precisely why I took your weapons away." He laughed slightly and walked over to her. He took her hand and smiled. "I wanted to try and make up for the past year. I will spend a lifetime making it up to you if that is what it takes. We can move to Tel Aviv, or Paris, or wherever you want. We can buy a house and forget Jeanne and NCIS and Mossad and arms dealers and everything. I want you to be happy."

"And what about your happiness?"

"That will come with seeing you happy." He smiled and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"I do not want to move away from DC, Tony. I do not want to forget about NCIS. I just want you to love me."

"As you wish." He smiled and brushed his lips against hers. She narrowed her eyes but said nothing, lapsing into an amicable silence as the plane began to descend.

* * *

"They're coming home, Timmy!" Abby bounced around as they waited in the squad room.

"If Ziva didn't kill him."

"She wouldn't do that, Timmy. She loves him."

"I fear Timothy that Abby is correct." Ducky sighed as they all stood facing the elevator.

Jenny looked at Gibbs. "You better be right about breaking the rules, Jethro, because if this doesn't work out it will be my neck on the line. Let alone the fallout it will cause if something goes wrong between the two of them."

"Trust me, Jen. I'm right."

"Aren't you always." She muttered under her breath and turned away.

"You don't think I did anything wrong when I waited on them the other week do you Doctor Mallard, because if I got something wrong and that ruined all chances of a relationship for them I don't know what I'll do." Palmer said nervously and Gibbs glared at him. "Right. Er, Doctor, I think I might go downstairs and make sure the pipettes are clean." He backed away and hurried out of the room before anyone could yell at him.

"I apologise for him, Jethro. He really does mean well, even if he is slightly misguided at times." The elevator door dinged and Abby squealed, running and hugging the agent who walked out. He yelped as he was ambushed, turning to look at the strange creature that had attached itself to him.

"You're not Tony or Ziva!" She pulled away, freeing the man from the restraints of her arms and letting him hurry to his desk with fear-stricken eyes. It wasn't every day that you were attacked by a curious hugging Goth. He looked back over and saw her return to stand by agent Gibb's team. That would explain it – she must be the forensic specialist. In his four weeks of working at the agency he was rather glad that he had not had the unfortunate luck of being sent on any errands to the lab. He had heard stories that would give anyone nightmares.

The elevator dinged again and this time she got the right person as she flung her arms around Ziva's neck.

"Indoor voices, Abs." Tony smiled at her squealing.

"You're home!" She stood back and looked at the pair of them, then to their hands entwined together between them. "Eeeee!"

"Abby, please." He tried to cover his ears with his free hand.

"Abs, you've said hello. Now get back to work." Gibbs looked at her. "The two of you with me." He walked between them so they had to let go of one another's hands. He stormed into the elevator and they exchanged a look before following him, Tony recapturing her hand in his.

He stood silently.

They stood silently.

They both began to feel ashamed.

They both began to feel like they had broken the rules.

And they had.

"What are you two doing?" Gibbs broke the oppressive lack of noise.

"We're being happy." Tony shrugged.

"You've broken my rules."

"You said I could take her to Mexico!"

"I said you could repair your friendship!"

"And what if we both want more than friendship? What if we'll never be happy as just friends? Because I am happy right now and I want to stay that way! If me not working here is the only way to get that, then fine!" Tony yelled.

"Hey!" Gibbs hit the back of his head. "You happy, Ziva?"

"More than ever."

"And you are too?"

"Yes."

"And you each promise that you won't do anything to destroy the other or what you've got?"

"Yes." They replied together. Gibbs looked at them for a long moment before a very, very rare smile graced his lips.

"Good." He smiled and hit the on button. They both stared, shocked.

"Wait, what?"

"DiNozzo, I'm happy for you."

"So what was the whole 'what do you think you're doing!'?"

"It was me checking that neither of you were gonna screw this up. Or screw the other up. But, if you can't keep your work and home lives separate, I will hit you both so hard that your kids'll feel it."

"Kids!" Tony choked on the word and Ziva visibly paled. Gibbs raised his eyebrows at her, which made Tony look at her. His eyes bulged. "You're not…"

"No!" She shook her head frantically and Gibbs laughed. They both glared at him.

"I couldn't resist." He shrugged, grinning. "The look on your faces was worth it."

"He's dead." Tony muttered as they exited the elevator.

"Do not worry, my love. I know how to kill someone with just a toothpick." She shrugged and he laughed.

Yes, he was happy.

He was happy with his little, beautiful assassin.


	7. As You Wish

**Just the last chapter to finish it off. I do not think that it does the rest of the story justice, and it is not very long, but I felt that if I added any more then I would have ruined it even more.**

As You Wish

"Hey, Abs, what'd you want me down here for?"

"Four months."

"Huh?"

"Four months and you still haven't told her?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know fully well what I am talking about Anthony DiNozzo."

"Uh, no. I really, really don't."

"You need to tell her how you feel."

"Ziva."

"She's upset. She says you haven't told her that you love her."

"I have, she just doesn't realise it. I told her the night I took her on our first date."

"Just tell her you love her, Tony."

"I have!"

"Then tell her in a way she'll understand."

* * *

"You're beautiful." Tony kissed the nape of Ziva's neck.

"Is that so?" She asked mildly, continuing to slice the vegetables in front of her.

"Of course you are." He frowned at her non-committal tone. "What's wrong."

"Nothing. I am just tired. Can you please lay the table?"

"As you wish." He nodded, not expecting her sudden outburst that followed.

"Why, Tony?! Why do you always say that?! That is all you say to me!"

"You'll understand one day." He backed away from the knife that she waved with her hand.

"What does that even mean!?"

"Just…" He sighed and shook his head. "Come with me. Turn the stove off." He added as an afterthought.

"And what about dinner?"

"We'll have it later. Come on." He took her hand and pulled her through to his lounge, sitting her on the sofa and walked over to the DVD shelf. He pulled the title he wanted out and slipped the disc into the reader.

"Tony, I do not want to watch a movie."

"You'll want to watch this." He sat down next to her and tried to wrap his arms around her. She stayed stony, not softening at his touch. He hit the play button and the blue title appeared on the screen.

"The Princess Bride?"

"Best movie of all time." He shrugged.

"Tony, I am tired. I want to have dinner and then go to bed, I do not want to watch a movie tonight."

"Just watch, Ziva." He pressed a kiss to her temple. She pouted but obeyed, sitting in silence.

 _"_ _That day, she was amazed to discover that when he was saying 'As you wish', what he meant was, 'I love you.'"_ Her head turned to Tony and tears slipped down her cheeks. She pressed her lips to his, breaking away and leaning her forehead against his.

"You love me?"

"Always."

"Why did you never just tell me?"

"Do I ever do things that simply?" He brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"No. Never." She grinned.

"I love you."

"I know." She breathed, wrapping her arms around his neck as he scooped her up, the film and dinner completely forgotten about.


End file.
